Moreno has flashes of brilliance but lacks atmosphere

Restaurant review: The decidedly un-Italian dishes at Moreno are a success, but the restaurant is let down by an absence of atmosphere and exorbitant wine list.

Don’t open the champagne: Moreno At Baglioni’s slick service is let down by a pricey menu and poor atmosphere (Picture: File)

Moreno Cedroni is the latest in a long line of illustrious chefs from overseas who have chanced their arm on the London restaurant scene. Maybe it’s because we have enough home-grown talent or that the restaurant-going public has matured beyond the point of being dazzled by guidebook accolades and ‘celebrity’ chefs.

However, the city doesn’t fall to its knees in gratitude every time a chef from over there deigns to open a restaurant over here. A two Michelin-star pedigree, for example, didn’t prevent Jean Christophe Alex-Ansanay’s South Kensington fine diner, L’Ambassade de l’Ile, closing within a year of its 2008 launch.

At least Cedroni has something other than the two stars for his La Madonnina del Pescatore fish restaurant on the Adriatic coast up his sleeve at this opulent hotel dining room. Unfortunately, that thing is susci, an Italian version of sushi that appears to involve serving bits of raw fish on undercooked, under-seasoned risotto rice.

A selection of eight sushi and susci make up an over-large, overwrought and overpriced starter, served in a posh glass version of a TV dinner tray and with foot-long cutlery that makes my lunch guest look like Edward Scissorhands.

On the plus side, the fish and shellfish are wonderfully fresh and some of the decidedly un-Italian combinations, such as amberjack with leek and lemon grass sauce, pansy, basil and fried amaranth, are successes.

Octopus, served as a salad with steamed vegetables, jelly bread (described by our waiter as ‘dried bread in jelly’ – thanks for that) and ‘its mayonnaise’ (another mysterious element that either means it helpfully bought the chef a jar of Hellmann’s or, more likely, the delicious emulsified sauce was made with the stock the octopus was cooked in) is as tender as it is pleasing.

Quail, from the excellent value set menu, has been carefully prepared, with the breasts braised to soft pink perfection and the legs expertly fried so the skin is crisp but the delicate meat isn’t overcooked. Foie gras, poached artichoke and monkfish turns out to be a winning combination but the dish is crying out for more texture than a pureed artichoke sauce can provide.

I couldn’t resist ordering a dessert that included chocolate mousse, Nutella, ginger ice cream and celeriac crisps, but you should. It would have been fine except someone had the insane idea of adding chunks of mozzarella into the mix, transforming what could have been a leftfield winner into something you’d throw together from whatever’s left in the fridge when you arrive home drunk and hungry at two in the morning.

There are some flashes of brilliance from the kitchen and the wildly enthusiastic and extremely slick service (the sommelier could sell snow to Eskimos and, given the exorbitant wine prices he’s been saddled with, he’d probably prefer to).

However, the lack of atmosphere, high prices (a bottle of mineral water costs a horrifying £5.20) and some downright peculiar ideas means that, should I feel the need for it, I’ll be looking elsewhere for inspiration from overseas.